


All I Want For Christmas

by Mayila



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas Fluff, Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alternate universe - non magical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayila/pseuds/Mayila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French and Royce Gold spend Christmas together. Tooth-rooting fluff, where they're friends, but they're also madly in love with each other, and at Christmas they finally act on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I don't want a lot for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> **I wish you all Merry Christmas! :)**  
>  \-------------------------------------  
> No beta, so I apologize for any possible mistakes.

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

_“Don't let the past steal your present. This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone.” Taylor Caldwell_

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄ **  
**

Christmas - time for joy and love, family reunions, bestowing presents and sharing the domestic warmth... Belle should be happy; celebrating, dining with her family and exchanging gifts, the Christmas songs playing from the radio. But she is not happy and she is not doing any of those things. Her family - her father - lives in Australia, and she is all alone in her small apartment in Storybrooke, Maine. It’s her first Christmas here, and although she has tried to keep positive, she just can’t help the downing feeling at the emptiness and deafening silence in her apartment. She occupied herself in the morning by finishing decorating the small tree in the living room and hanging colorful lights on the walls, but when that was finished, she had nothing more to do. She had tried to read, but the words somewhat evaded her. She had tried to watch a movie, but she felt strangely bored in the middle of it. Now she’s sitting at the windowsill in her small bedroom and glances out the window. It’s a late evening now, the stars already shining brightly at the clear dark sky, but the air is free from the snow. It’s been snowing in the morning and the days before, so there’s a nice layer of snow covering the pavement. The streets are empty, as people sit in their homes with their families enjoying the holiday, and Belle sighs deeply. She wonders what her best friend is doing… He’s probably sitting right now in his fancy dining room with his son, sharing the exquisite meal and  past stories, making up for the time they have lost…

Feeling at the same time sad for herself and happy for her friend, she has a sudden urge to leave the apartment, to go out, somewhere, anywhere. Not really thinking over it much, she makes a quick job with putting a pair of leggings under her short skirt, and as she walks into the living room, she hastily tugs the puffy boots on her legs, ties a cotton scarf around the neck, grabs her warm plush jacket and pulls a pair of gloves on the hands, and being all ready now, she grabs the keys and leaves the apartment.

She doesn’t really have a destination, so she just lets her feet carry her, while she’s lost in her own thoughts. Her legs seem to know exactly where to direct her, the route she has walked through so many times before. And indeed, before she knows it, she passes by Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop, and she draws herself to a halt as she notices his black Cadillac parked at the small parking lot beside the shop. Is he there alone, lonely on the Christmas, like herself? Wasn’t he supposed to be spending it with his son? There’s a pang in her heart at the thought that her dearest friend is now all alone… _No one should be alone on Christmas…_

As she stands by the front window, glancing into the darkness inside, her thoughts carry her into the past. Since when a year ago she left her home in Australia and moved into Storybrooke, she and Mr. Gold have almost instantly sprouted a sort of bond. He has quickly become a regular client of the library where she works, and from the small chats they had been engrossing themselves into, they fast discovered how much they had in common; both of them loving books and classic music, both not being outgoing people, and both not having much friends. Before they had noticed, their chats became longer and sometimes Mr. Gold would help her organize books, and sometimes they would just sit in her office for a bit and enjoy a cup of tea and a cookie; and from that moment on, it was just one step before their acquaintance has turned into friendship.

When she had met him, he was a very withdrawn person, surrounding himself with a thick walls. At the beginning she had no chances of getting through them, but over time, as their friendship has grown, he started to let her in, slowly and little by little, until he had finally dropped his mask and started to be just himself around her. He still sometimes puts the mask on, mostly to hide his feelings when they are not happy, and he still mostly avoids discussing his past, but for the most of the time he lets her see the real man he is - and that man is someone really worth of keeping close; he is truly a good and gentle person, with a caring heart, and a beautiful soul, Belle thinks. She is of course very well aware of his reputation; people are afraid of him, and one glare of Mr. Gold or one word said in his most menacing tone is usually enough to make a person scary off in a hurry. His reputation around town is as bad as it can be, and she's heard at least half a dozen of names on him, monster or beast being one of the lightest. No one ever willingly approaches him, and if someone enters his shop, it is only out of absolute necessity. People think of him as a heartless ruthless man, and he sure is like that in business, Belle has no illusions. But the real man, the man she's got to know, is a good-hearted person, that respects her a great deal and makes her feel incredibly comfortable and free to just be herself. She can talk about everything with him, and she knows he won't judge. He has also never made an obscene joke, unlike some of men she met; he is very respectable, old-fashioned even.

At first they were awkward around each other, both unused to socializing like that, but by now she feels free and safe in his company, as she has never felt in the company of any other man; she can only hope it is the same for him.

They are friends; best friends she would even say. There is more there though, as Belle has found herself immensely attracted to him, but although she would very much liked to change the direction of their acquaintance, she isn’t sure if that would be the right course of action; the last thing she wants, is scaring him off and destroying their friendship altogether. But maybe she’s just being cowardly? Wanting to leave the friend zone, but too afraid to actually stir things in the right direction?

She shakes herself off the thoughts; she doesn’t want to think about it all tonight. She has already spent countless days and nights thinking about it. She reaches for the door, pressing the handle, but the door stays closed. Not feeling deterred, she directs her steps to the back of the shop. As she enters the small yard, her eyes fall at a pair of green wooden chairs and a small round garden table, all now covered in a thin layer of snow. No one ever uses it, and frankly, Belle wouldn't even risk sitting on those shabby chairs or putting any dishes on that wobbly table. She really doesn’t know why won't he just throw them away.

Looking back at the shop, she approaches the small door and tries out the handle; unlike the front door, these one don't give any resistance and open up easily. As Belle walks inside, gently closing the door behind her, her eyes immediately fall upon a desk situated in the middle of the room, where Mr. Gold is currently sitting, stretched in his chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand and a decanter of what looks like Whisky on his desk. When he hears the door closing, his head jerks up, the glass coming down onto the wooden surface with a _clunk_ , and he pulls himself up abruptly.

“Belle! What are you doing here?” He grips the cane and approaches her, and Belle let’s her eyes roam through his body for that brief moment. His slightly overweight frame always nicely fills the impeccable suits he likes to wear, and he truly is a fine looking man, Belle thinks. Today however, he has forgone his usual suit jacket and wears only a navy-blue shirt, not even a waistcoat or a tie to accompany it. Feeling her breath going away, Belle for a second focuses her eyes at the V-cut of his shirt, revealing a bit of the smooth skin of his chest. Those small glimpses is all she ever gets, as she has never seen him without a shirt, even in the summer. A part of her is grateful for it, as she isn’t sure if she would be able to stop herself from running her hands against his chest. Sliding her eyes lower, she admires the way the shirt shifts on him with every step, crinkling pleasantly around his slightly round tummy. It’s another part she isn’t sure she could keep her hands from, if he was to take off his shirt… Feeling somewhat hot inside, her eyes eventually go back up to his face, and her breath hitches. He has come to a halt several feet before her and shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, casting his eyes awkwardly at the floor somewhere beside her. He had not only noticed her staring, but it also unsettled him, she realizes, and she blushes with embarrassment as she turns away her gaze.

He was asking her a question, wasn’t he?

“Uh… I just went on a walk… And when I was passing by, I saw your car parked up.” She sees his eyes narrowing for a second, as he looks at her in thought. She knows what he’s thinking; he's wondering why isn’t she at home, why she wanders through town at the Christmas Eve. She is somewhat glad when he doesn’t ask her about it.

“Right... Umm… Would you like to come in?” He asks instead and she smiles at him brightly.

“I would, yes. Though technically, I am already inside.” She winks at him playfully and he shakes his head at her with an amused smile, as he approaches her closer with an outstretched hand. Belle swiftly unzips her plush jacket, stuffing into the pockets her gloves and shawl, and then hands it to him with a smile, glad that they dispelled the awkward moment she had accidently created.

As he makes his way towards the hatstand in the corner, Belle takes a look around. The light in the room is rather dimmed and it creates a somewhat cozy atmosphere, yet the place doesn’t look prepared for Christmas at all; it looks just like she remembers it from the multiple times she's been here. There are no ornaments and no tree. The place looks almost sad, Belle thinks.

“I’ve got only Whisky, I’m afraid…” She hears him say, and she looks up at him, only now noticing that he’s moved towards the desk again and waves the hand above the decanter standing there.

“Whisky’s alright, but pour me just a little.” She tells him, deciding that it will do better than simple water, and he nods. She watches his back as he gracefully moves to the cupboard, the soft sound of his cane tapping on the wooden panels the only thing hearable, and suddenly she realizes just how very quiet it is in here. There shouldn’t be such silence at Christmas, she thinks.

“Do you have a radio here?”

Mr. Gold glances at her for a brief second, a confused furrow between his eyebrows.

“I do. Over there…” He nods at the opposite wall, and Belle looks over there. Indeed, at one of the shelves of the big bookcase stands a radio. How she has never noticed it before? Belle walks eagerly to it, touching the old thing carefully.

“Does it work?”

“I think it should, yes…”

Belle pulls out the radio antenna and switches the button. A horrible hum comes from the speakers, and Belle turns the small knob around, until finally she catches the right frequency. It looks like some song has just ended and a new one immediately picks up. The first melodic accords play and Belle smiles, recognizing the song instantly.

_Oh the weather outside is frightful_   
_But the fire is so delightful,_   
_And since we've no place to go,_   
_Let it snow!_   
_Let it snow!_   
_Let it snow!_

The tantalizing voice of Dean Martin sings the first verse of the song, setting the Christmas mood immediately, and Belle, already feeling in high spirits, turns around, catching a surprised gaze of Mr. Gold. There is also a small smile dancing around his lips, she notices, and she knows that he feels the mood too. Grinning, she approaches him with step rocking to the rhythm of the music, and takes the glass from his outstretched hand.

She plops herself at the small cot pushed up under the wall, the most comfy place in the room to sit at, and invitingly pats the spot next to her. Mr. Gold quickly turns to the desk to take his own glass, and then moves to sit down just beside her. Belle recalls with a smile how at the beginning her close proximity had been making him tense up, but it's been already quite some time since he stopped reacting in such way. However, he still becomes a bit nervous at times and it's not so difficult to baffle him. She had noticed a long time ago that, as much as snide and confident he appears around other people, in reality he is actually a rather shy man. Belle has found that endearing from the beginning, and is more than grateful that _she_ has become the person that he opens up to and allows into his personal space.

Presently she leans her back against the wall and stretches her legs before her comfortably, while he carefully rests his cane against the side of the cot. They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the song, and Belle sighs contentedly. The shop is warm, the presence of Mr. Gold soothing, and it feels like the time has slowed down just for now, just for them.

She shifts and leans her head on his shoulder, as she has done so many times before, and she relishes in the warm cozy feel of him. Though he is a rather slender and short man, she can fit her cheek against his shoulder just perfectly and it almost feels for her like leaning against a pillow. Belle had never thought that resting her head against someone’s shoulder could be so pleasant, not until the first time she did that with Gold. And he doesn’t even tense up anymore; after so many times she’s done that, he grew used to that contact, enough to enjoy it rather than fear it, and the knowledge of it warms Belle’s heart. Or is it this closeness itself, that makes her insides tingle funnily all of sudden?

“So, this was your plan for Christmas then? Sit in the shop and drink the Whisky alone?” She asks to distract herself from the thoughts, her tone teasing.

“Ah, well… it’s not any worse than your idea of a lonely walk.” He points out, and she laughs into his shoulder.

“True enough.” She concedes, and they fall into an amicable silence for a moment. As the playful note dissipates from the air, the smile fades away from her face.

“But seriously now. Why are you in the shop?” She feels him shrug and hears a slur of the drink as he takes a slow sip.

“I figured I could do some more work…”

“On Christmas?” She moves away from his shoulder and looks at him dubiously. She knows the man is rather a workaholic, but even he isn’t workaholic to such extend. Besides, she knows that he had different plans for Christmas…

He glances back at her with a slightly irritated look at his face.

“What do you want me to say? That I preferred to come here, instead of sitting in my huge empty house and staring at the useless decorations?”

His voice is bitter, and Belle feels her heart clench, as she voices her suspicion. “Neal couldn’t make it?”

His face falls down and he sighs heavily, facing away from her to look somewhere ahead.

“He called few days ago, said that he wanted to make it work, but as he approached his girlfriend on the subject, she revealed she’d already bought them a Christmas trip to Norway… Neal told me that he couldn’t just throw away that present, especially that Emma was saving for it a whole year… And I get that, I do.”

Belle knows he tries to keep disappointment out of his voice, but he doesn’t quite manage to hide it. He’s playing with his drink now, turning the liquid inside around and around in a slow circular motions, staring at it with a creased brow. Belle reaches for his knee and squeezes it. She knows how much he loves his son, but she also knows that their relationship is very tentative. He has never spoken to her about it in detail, but she knows that something happened in the past, droving them away from each other, and they still didn’t fully mend. From the few times he mentioned his relationship with Neal though, Belle knows they’ve been making progress recently. She remembers him being in an unusually joyful mood just over a week ago, and telling her that there was a chance that Neal will be coming over for this year’s Christmas. The fact that he didn’t after all, makes her heart clench even more for Mr. Gold and tears pool at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry… I know how happy you were at the prospect of spending holiday with him.”

“Yeah…” He sighs, and he looks so small for a moment, so fragile, that Belle feels the biggest urge to hug him, to hold him in a tight embrace until somehow everything would be better. She is seriously considering doing just that, but suddenly the sad look goes away from his face and he looks at her with a little half smile.

“But we talked through the phone today. He apologized once more for not coming… I think he _truly_ wanted to make it work, y’know? And he thanked me for the Christmas gifts I sent them. He said they sent me something too, but unfortunately I haven’t gotten it yet. And the little nugget wouldn’t even tell me what it is.” He tries to sound annoyed, but the betraying grin spreads across his face, and Belle feels a snort escape her. She watches his face, alight for a moment, before eventually his smile slowly dissipates, to be replaced by a sad look of melancholy.

“Maybe next year you will spend it together.” She puts on a brave smile, trying to reassure him, and a corner of his mouth lifts up slightly.

“Maybe, yeah.”

He takes another sip, finishing his glass. For a second he just stares at it, his face pensive as if he’s lost in some old memory. The mood has turned rather sullen and Belle isn’t sure what to do to lift it up again. She raises her glass to the lips, taking the tiniest of sips, and immediately coughs when the heavy flavor spreads through her mouth. She suddenly remembers why she hates strong alcohol.

At that moment Mr. Gold stirs, and hoists himself up so abruptly it startles Belle. She gazes up at him, just to see that the pensive look is all gone from his face, and he’s staring down at her barely touched drink.

“Maybe I should get you some water instead?” He offers politely, and Belle shakes her head with a small smile.

“No, thank you. But you can take my glass.”

Belle outstretches her hand to him and he takes the glass from her without a complaint. As she's looking at him, suddenly a mischievous smirk crosses his face for a split second, and unceremoniously he swallows the contents of her glass in one gulp, barely even cringing. Belle shakes her head at him and he shrugs with an innocent face, although they are both wearing matching smirks.

Glad that the evening isn’t going to end up depressingly, Belle kicks off her boots and leans against the wall, drawing her legs up, and watches him limp to the desk, his cane forgone. He refills the glass, his movements slow and meticulous, and suddenly Belle notices that the song has just changed. First jumpy notes of the "Jingle Bell Rock" start to play, and she barely stops herself from singing along to the rhythmic words.

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock  
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring_

When she looks up, she noticed Gold swaying his hips in the rhythm of melodious music, as he makes his way towards her. She can’t stop the laugh from escaping her at the sight, and he grins widely in response. He is ridiculous. They are ridiculous. And everything has just become lighter again.

_Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun  
Now the jingle hop has begun_

At the spur of moment, carried by the suddenly joyful, playful mood that surrounded them, Belle jolts up and takes the drink from confused Mr. Gold, quickly putting down the glass on the desk.

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock  
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time_

She turns to him and entwines her fingers with his, throwing their arms up in the air with a huff of laughter.

He arches an eyebrow at her. “What _are_ you doing?”

_Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square  
In the frosty air_

“Dancing of course!” Belle exclaims mirthfully, stepping back to stretch their arms between them, and then she circulates around him, shaking their arms in such a manner so it looks like a wave of an ocean, and having no other choice he follows, turning around his axis to not lose balance.

_What a bright time, it's the right time  
To rock the night away_

“I would hardly call this dancing...” His brow stays skeptical, but he doesn’t resist, and when she pulls at his hands, he takes a clumsy step forward.

_Jingle bell time is a swell time  
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh_

“It doesn’t matter! This song is awesome and we ought to just have fun with it!” She throws their joined hands up in the air at the last words, and steps forward, winding her hands around his neck, playing with the floof as she’s turning them around, and round, and round.

_Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet  
Jingle around the clock_

_Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet  
That's the jingle bell rock_

“You call _this_ fun?”

“Oh, don’t be such an old grump!” She slightly smacks his chest, and he lets out a gasp, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open.

“An old grump? I will show you an old grump, _Miss French_.” He says in a feinted offended tone, and before she knows it, with one hand he grasps her waist in a secure grip, while with the right one he squeezes her left hand. Belle barely has time to inhale air, when the hand on her waist pushes her away from him, setting her into a spinning motion. The hand grasping hers is holding tight, making sure she won’t slip out, as she spins more and more further away. There’s a pull at her arm then, and her motion stops, the world whirling around her for a split second. When she looks in his direction, he smirks and a tug at her hand pulls her closer to him, his left hand immediately landing back on her waist. Before she can open her mouth, he raises their joined hands above their heads and the hand on her waist spins her again, but this time only around her axis.

_What a bright time, it's the right time  
To rock the night away_

A gentle pressure at her waist stops her motion, and suddenly she’s being tilted backwards, and her leg reflexively twists around his thigh for a better balance.

_Jingle bell time is a swell time  
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh_

He’s leaning over her now, and Belle stares into his eyes breathless. It’s an one magical second then; when the world around them seems to have gotten suspended in time, when there’s just blue eyes glancing into chocolate ones, and chocolate eyes glancing into blue ones. But then he tugs her upwards, her leg falls from his thigh and, after making sure she’s standing steadily, his hands release its hold on her, and the time rushes up again.

Gold looks at her with a smug smile, as she tries to catch her breath.

_Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet  
That's the jingle bell_

“What the hell just happened?”

His smug grin only widens at that, and she narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that! You proved you can dance, but it doesn’t prove you’re not a grump.” She pokes her finger into his chest, and the smugness is instantly wiped away from his face, replaced by what she thinks is supposed to be an annoyed expression.

_That's the jingle bell  
That's the jingle bell rock…_

“Ah, women… You are never truly pleased…” He makes an exasperated move with his hand and sighs desperately, and Belle simply rolls her eyes at him. What a ridiculous man, really…

The last tunes of the "Jingle Bell Rock" slowly subside, and the song changes into a new one, a raspy voice of Bryan Adams coming out with the first lyrics of "Christmas Time". Suddenly feeling rather worn off and cold in her clad only in socks feet, Belle inhales deeply and smiles at Gold.

“Go sit down, Royce. I will fetch your drink.” He nods, with that spark in his eye and a small pleased smile, the expression he always wears when she addresses him by his first name.

She looks at him for a second as he limps towards the cot, her eyes inadvertently drown to his bum. She can’t never quite stop herself from glancing there, whenever he's turned with his back to her.

She shakes herself from her ridiculousness and turns to the desk.

“How about you? Why were you wandering the streets alone, on Christmas?” He asks her when she makes her slow way back, careful to not spill the drink. She hands him the glass and plops herself down next to him.

“I don’t know… I just… I didn’t feel like sitting at home I guess. The same as you.” She shrugs and shifts, drawing her legs up.

“Did you talk with your father?”

“I did, yes.” She smiles fondly at the memory. After she moved out, changing the continents, they haven’t been speaking as often as she wishes they would, so she cherishes every time they have a chance to have a conversation. “He told me he will be spending Christmas with his neighbor. I think he really likes her, y’know? He sounded so excited talking about the preparations and the gift he got her…” Belle laughs softly, and sees him looking at her with a gentle smile. “It’s the first Christmas we’re gonna spend apart, so… I’m glad he's got someone.”

She means it, even if the notion of her father spending Christmas with some woman, instead of Belle as they always did before, gives her heart a painful tug. She knows it’s ridiculous; she moved out, and she is not a child anymore. She truly is happy for her father. She just didn’t consider that the Christmas without him could be so… lonely.

She must have sighed or her thoughts have reflected on her face, because Gold's arm is suddenly reaching for her, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“The first Christmas alone is the worst one. Later, you get somewhat used to it…”

“You do?”

He looks at her for few seconds, and then sighs.

“No, no you don’t. It always feels like crap.” He admits gruffly, and takes a big sip of his drink, cringing slightly when the alcohol burns in his throat.

“But, it doesn’t feel like crap right now, does it?”

He looks down at her, his face in thought. Eventually she sees a smile sprout out at the corners of his mouth, lighting up his face and creating lovely wrinkles around his warm gleaming eyes.

“It does not.” He tells her honestly, and she can smile back, her heart feeling somewhat lighter. She scoots closer to him, leaning against his side, and sighs contentedly when his arm wraps around her and his hand starts to stroke her arm slowly, sending pleasant shivers through her.

“I sent him a present though. And he got it, just two days ago. He said I got him just the thing and he loves it.”

“What did you get him?”

“A tool kit.“

“A tool kit?” He asks with an incredulous voice and Belle laughs softly.

“Yeah, I know… But his biggest passion is tinkering. He sometimes spends whole days locked in his workshop. Sometimes he even creates small strange things, you know? So, I wanted to give him something that he could use for his hobby.” She shrugs, a small melancholy smile playing at her lips at the reminiscent of the old days.

“It’s always nice to be gifted something we actually may enjoy, that’s for sure. But… Why a tool kit? I mean… If he likes to tinker so much, doesn’t he already have a tool kit?”

Belle huffs a laugh at that.

“Oh, if you just knew how prone he is to break them! He always spends money on tons of materials and books, but he never actually invested in a proper tool set. He always uses the cheapest ones, and ends up breaking them somehow. So, now I got him something much more sturdier and modern, and hopefully, this one will last. At least until next Christmas.” She narrows her eyes when she thinks of that. The gift had cost her quite a bit and she would really rather not see it going to waste in a few months.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, amusement coloring his face, and Belle looks at him for a few seconds, her eyes fixed at his smiling lips. Belle has always found his smile particularly beautiful.

Just like always when she looks at him in such a way, he blushes and shyly casts his eyes downwards, as if he was thinking of himself as unworthy of her appreciative glances. She supposes that's actually what he thinks, but she has no idea how to convince him otherwise without revealing her true feelings toward him. He swiftly turns his face away from her, hiding it in his glass, as he takes a small sip of the drink.

For a moment they listen to another song playing softly, and Belle leans her head on his shoulder again, but he stirs.

“I’ve gotta use the bathroom…” He excuses himself, and Belle nods in understanding, leaning against the wall, while he takes a hold of his cane and approaches the small door squeezed between two bookcases.

Belle has to admit to herself that the Christmas has turned out rather pleasant. She always feels that wonderful peace when she’s alone with Royce, and she has never cared about what others think of their friendship. But as pleasant as it feels to just sit with him in the shop and listen to the Christmas songs, Belle feels like they should do something. She is not quite sure what, until when he comes out of the bathroom and her mind suddenly gives her an idea, one that feels as if it was the best idea in the world, and Gold looks down at her with a cautious curiosity upon seeing her sudden enthusiasm.

“Let’s take a walk!” She exclaims, already hurriedly pulling the boots on her feet and standing up.

“A walk? Isn’t it too dark for that?”

“And here the grumpy man comes out again!” She snickers and tosses at him his red scarf that lied neatly folded into a cube at his desk, and then moves to turn off the radio.

“I am merely trying to be rational.” He meekly defends himself, knowing as well as she does, that she won’t fall for it. Belle knows very well that he has nothing against night walks; they've taken walks in the late hours several times already, the sky covered in stars, the streets quiet and empty. Each time Belle thinks of those night strolls, she can't stop the thought that they were simply romantic, and she would have called them that way aloud, had she and Gold been a couple.

When the music goes off and silence engulfs the shop again, he follows Belle to the coat stand and reflexively helps her with the jacket. While putting on his own coat, from a corner of an eye he watches with a fond smile as she puts on her gloves and ties the scarf around her neck, but Belle doesn’t notice that.

They leave the shop through the back door, and Belle stands at the small yard, shivering for a second from the sudden cold that hits her upon the abrupt change of temperatures. The snow has started to fall down again and now there’s even a bigger blanket of it on the ground. Belle notices a fluffy pile of snow at the round table besides her and reaches for it, forming a small snowball. Just as Mr. Gold locks the door and turns to her, she throws the snowball at him and it hits him square in the chest. He lets out a surprised grunt, and Belle giggles at him.

“You little devil, you.” He grumbles, and Belle laughs louder, approaching him and patting at his chest with her gloved hands, shaking the snow from his expensive coat, and though he tries to look offended, the smug grin betrays him.

When she’s finished, he offers her his left arm, and Belle links her hand through his elbow instantly.

As they stride down the main street, Belle presses herself closer to him, relishing in the heat coming from his nearness. It’s gotten colder than when she was walking earlier, but the temperature outside is still barely below zero Celsius. Living her whole life in the warm northern Australia however, she still hasn’t gotten quite used to the low temperatures. Gold on the other hand doesn’t seem to mind the chill one bit and doesn’t even shiver, despite having just a simple coat over him. Belle wonders, if she was to take him to her hometown one day, would he feel too warm in there, used to the rains and cold as he is?

They walk slowly, the ground covered in treacherous snow, and Mr. Gold is careful where he puts his cane. Belle’s mind brings to the front the memory of their first few walks, where she would forget herself and start walking too quickly, only to realize he had difficulties with catching up with her. He had never once complained about her forgetfulness and eventually Belle got used to adjusting her steps to his, as well as to his uneven gait. The latter took some more time to get used to, but by now Belle wasn’t even noticing the slight wobble when they walked arm in arm.

It all just began to feel so natural over time; to walk with him like that, to simply drop to his shop even for a five minute long idle chat, to call him in the middle of the night if she couldn’t sleep, to spend every other Saturday on surprising one another with a new way of spending that day together, to open her door just to find him standing there with a shy smile and a bottle of wine or champagne, to use his shoulder to cry when she felt depressed, to sit with him on the couch and watch a movie on a lazy night, to play Scrabble or Monopoly with him and share a laugh over it… She remembers the beginning too, how she moved to Storybrooke, how tentatively their acquaintance had started, but how immediately they just _clicked_. The at first quick casual meetings of two friendless people, have turned into something deeper and much stronger before she had noticed. It was such a smooth change, that looking at it now, it simply feels like it has always been that way.

It is something truly special, what they have. Belle right now has few more friends, but it is Mr. Gold who she would without a second thought call her most favorite person _._ There is a line of trust there, even if he still keeps himself rather closed-off for the most of the time. There are however some sparse moments when he opens up and lets her see him vulnerable, and she always makes sure to show him that she is there for him, that he can trust her. Never has she tried to force him out of his comfort zone though, not demanding any more from him than he is willing to give, and he has always respected her boundaries too.

They truly like each other and they immensely enjoy each other’s company. And that is enough. Isn't it?


	2. All I want for Christmas is you

_❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄_

_“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” Norman Vincent Peale_

_❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄_

As they stride through the empty night streets, the snow scrunching under their feet and breaths coming out in a white puffs, Belle’s arm tucked securely in Mr. Gold’s, she can’t stop thinking of how nice, how _perfect_ , it all is. They pass through many houses alighted by colorful lights, at the yard of Granny's Dinner they see a ridiculously large Christmas tree beautifully decorated, and there's even a big Star of Bethlehem hanging on one of the streets, stretching between two energy poles and pulsing with the golden light softy.

The newly pouring snow reflects in the light of lanterns, giving a pleasant orange glow, as the snowflakes lazily fall down from the cloudy sky, adding up to the pile at the ground. Belle looks up, squinting her eyes, as the wet flakes land on her face. She smiles and turns her head at the side, looking at Mr. Gold. His eyes are fixed ahead, straying aside for a moment when a lonely car slowly passes by them and soon disappears down the street. Belle studies his profile, alighted by the lantern they’re just passing. A single snowflake lands on his left eyebrow and sits there for a few seconds, until it melts down, and in a small trickle it runs down his cheek. His hair is sprinkled in places with white snow, the flakes gripping to it and not letting go. Belle thinks she would want to be on their place right now, to bury her hands or her face into his wonderfully soft long hair, to scratch at his ever-present little sideburns, to wind around her fingers the few silver strands he has and play with them... Unknowingly she lets out a sigh, and his eyes stray down to look at her. Belle gives him a shy smile and quickly turns her head at the other side, glad that the cold air masks the real reason for her red cheeks.

They somehow end up by her apartment building and, as if it’s perfectly normal, she unlocks the squeaky entrance door and walks inside, holding it open for Mr. Gold. And it is indeed quite normal for them; it’s hardly the first time she invites him in, after all.

The journey up, to the last floor where her small apartment is, goes on in quiet. She glances at the man beside her every now and then, seeing his jaws clenching and the way he tightly grips the cane. She herself doesn’t like this elevator; an old and screechy thing, moving in such a rocky manner that it makes it hard to keep upright and not lose your balance. Personally Belle avoids the elevator at any cost, but because a trip to the last floor using the stairs could be rather killing for Gold's crippled leg, especially after the walk they’ve just had, she doesn’t mind taking the elevator this time.

They finally reach the top floor and both step out at the hallway on a slightly wobbly legs, breathing in relief upon finally leaving that hellish thing. The corridor is dark and narrow, only two apartments on this floor, hers occupying the left side, and the other flat at the right that’s been standing empty already since when she moved in. She had asked Mr. Gold about it once, and he explained that it was once occupied by a strange man; a hermit and with the odd interest in knifes. He even went as far as to engraving his name on a dagger, painting the curves in red to make it look as if it was covered in blood, and hanging it on the front door, as if a warning for people who may have intended to knock at his door. Gold told her that after the elderly man had passed away, no one wanted to move in into the flat. Belle couldn't be really surprised; even looking at the direction of that apartment always gave her cold chills.

Belle shudders as she thinks of that strange man she has fortunately never met. Turning away from the creepy side of the corridor, she swiftly turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open, flicking up the light switch as soon as she crosses the threshold. She hears Mr. Gold enter after her and close the door carefully, and then his hands are on her shoulders, and just like earlier this day in the shop, he takes off her jacket after she unzips it. It’s a somewhat familiar routine for them, but from some time Belle has started to notice the pleasant shiver that runs through her body every time his hands touch her, and it was not different earlier today, and it’s not different right now either. She has an abrupt urge to lean backwards against him, to rest her head against his shoulder and feel his hands at her waist, as he buries his face in her hair and breathes her in…

His hands fell from her as he grips the jacket and turns to hang it on the hatstand, and Belle tries to wave off the suddenly vivid fantasy, as she kicks away her puffy boots, and replacing them for no less puffy slippers, she walks deeper into the room. The feelings that his presence causes her have distinctly increased recently; those pleasant shivers running through her, the heat engulfing her, the rush of tingling excitement…

“So, what’s the plan?” His voice cuts through her thoughts, and she turns to him with a smile put on place, though she feels it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, her brain still not disposing of the previous inappropriate thoughts, and she’s quite certain her cheeks are burning. She’s glad he doesn’t see that as he’s currently bent over, taking off his shoes and putting on the brown slippers, that has just become _his_ and always wait for him there by the door.

She watches as he neatly pushes the shoes under the wall, lining them up evenly, the fluffy hair cascading down on his face, and then he’s raising up, shaking his head a bit to get rid of the hair that fell into his beautiful eyes… Belle doesn’t even notice that she’s staring at him, that her mouth hang open. And he rolls up his sleeves a bit, revealing his slender yet strong forearms… And then he turns away, tugging the shawl into the pocket of his coat, and Belle suddenly shakes her head to get herself back to the reality. She did it again; he asked a question and she got lost in thoughts, while staring at him… She’s just glad that he didn't notice this time.

“How about, I make us some tea and a snack, and you turn on the music?” She finally answers him, and he turns to her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Not TV?” It’s kind of what they usually do; if they are at her place, they watch TV, and if they are at his place, they play board games. But right now Belle feels like music would be better for the mood.

“Nah… I don’t really feel like watching a movie… Unless, you want to watch something?”

“No, music’s fine.” He agrees, and Belle happily turns around to make the few steps that it takes to get to her open kitchen area. With her back turned she can’t see him, but she hears the tapping sound of his cane as he walks deeper into the room, then the _click_ and some horrible humming noise, and then the music finally starts to play.

Belle hums to herself as she puts the kettle on and then opens the fridge to see what they could eat. She distantly hears a rustle of clothing as he carefully takes a seat on her worn couch, the old thing screeching dangerously under the sudden weight. Belle smiles, remembering how many times he told her he will buy her a new one and how many times she insisted she wouldn’t accept such an expensive gift.

She focuses on the fridge, furrowing her brow a bit at its pitiful contents.

“I’ve got some salmon salad from Granny’s, a frozen pizza, and a two days old spaghetti. There should be a remnant of some cereal somewhere too.” She doesn’t need to turn around to see his smirk and jestingly disapproving shake of head. The always poor state of her fridge never ceases to amuse him, but he also never truly complains about it, even if he is used to a different standard, his fridge always fully stacked with a varied superb foods. It’s just a coincidence that she has taken into eating at his place several times a week… Really, just a coincidence.

“What a truly sumptuous choice…” He makes a clucking sound with his tongue, and Belle rolls her eyes at him, even though he can’t see it. “Where you planning on starving to death on Christmas? Nice engraving would that make.” He jokes and she turns around, seeing him lazily stretching at her sofa.

“And for what I've got you, hmm?”

“Oh yes, you are an one big fridge invader. I should put a padlock there.”

“Hey! I don’t eat _that_ much of your food!” But she knows he’s quite right there. She does raid his fridge each time she’s at his house, but really, could anyone blame her?

“Besides, it’s not like you mind.” She points out knowingly, and he throws his arms in the air in surrender.

“Alright, you got me there. So… What kind of pizza is it?” He asks, and Belle snorts at his quick change of subject. She turns back to the fridge and looks closer, reading the listed ingredients from the box.

“Cheese, ham, chicken and mushrooms, with a garlic sauce.”

She hears him hum in thought for a moment, and she instinctively just _knows_ what his choice will be.

“Pizza it is then.”

She smiles to herself as she reaches for the frozen pizza.

One of the things Belle has learned about him, and that still quite amuses her, is his love for a bad food. Though one wouldn’t find it in his fridge, he eats hamburgers, pizzas, hot-dogs or fries at a somewhat regular basis. Belle herself has the appetite for such food, so the late evening’s orders for fast foods have become much more fun since she met Royce. They would always order food for themselves, but end up stealing stuff from each other’s plate and in effect doing mess all around, ending up with their faces smeared with sauce, or like that one time when in the hurry to steal a slice of pizza from her, he didn’t grasp it properly and all the ingredients from it slid down right at her lap. Oh, he did quite panic then, terrified of that little mishap, but she only laughed more, at his expense. She had later made it up to him, giving him all two slices of the pizza, and an extra cookie at the goodbye.

Belle realizes she’s been staring down at the pizza in her hand, and she quickly closes the fridge, putting the pizza at the counter and walking over to the oven.

“Can I help you somehow?” She hears the shuffle as he’s standing up and approaching, not giving her a chance to refuse.

“Actually, you could make the tea.” She says when the kettle starts to whistle, and she almost drops the tray she’s been just taking out from the oven when a sudden whiff of fine masculine perfume hits her nostrils. She shakes her head at herself and stands up, putting the oval tray at the counter, next to the pizza. She looks for a second at Mr. Gold, his back turned to her, as he’s taking out her colorful mug and then another one; white with blue patterns handily painted on it, the mug that has somehow just become _his._ He throws the tea leaves in and carefully pours the water into the mugs, and only after he slightly bends down to open the drawer and get out a spoon, does she realize she’s just standing there and ogling him.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, glad he doesn’t hear it, and walks back to the oven. They are just friends… But is it so wrong to desire your friend?

Yes, it is, if he doesn’t feel the same; she chides herself inwardly.

“Belle? Are you alright?” She almost jumps when he’s suddenly standing before her, and she looks at him with a forced smile, her voice almost a squeal.

“I’m fine, yeah!” She knows he doesn’t believe her, the crease in his brow and slightly narrowed eyes indicate that, and afraid he would ask, she quickly bends down to close the oven, and turns it on.

“Could you open the pizza? I will get the tea to the living room.” He nods, though reluctantly, and she passes by him hastily, accidentally brushing her arm against his, which sends a pleasant jolt through her.

If she had looked at him in that moment, she would have seen he had felt that too.

❄❄❄❄❄

With the pizza and tea ready, they plop themselves at her worn couch. Gold cuts himself a big slice, and Belle giggles softly.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing…” She still giggles though, and he rolls his eyes at her, raising the pizza to his mouth. She sees not well conceived grin on his face and knows that he doesn’t mind her laugh. She knows that he’s not quick to take real offense; she has learned that, after few times when he had managed to fool her into thinking that she insulted him, only to finally burst out with deep laughter and put her into a startling realization that he was just teasing.

She gets herself a small slice and puffs at it before taking a bite. She glances sideways at Gold, just to see him already be halfway through his enormous slice, and currently putting a big chunk into his mouth, a trail of white garlic sauce slowly trickling down his jaw.

“You know, as for such a dignified man, you eat like quite a beast.” He snorts at that, almost spitting out the pizza, and he coughs, gagging. Belle reflexively reaches out to him, softly patting him on the back, until he swallows the mouthful and stops coughing.

“Thank you.” His voice is a bit raspy, and he clears his throat few more times, and takes a careful sip of tea.

“See, that’s why you should be eating slower.”

“Ah, but it’s your fault, really. If you hadn’t made me laugh, I wouldn’t have choked.” He points an accusatory finger at her, and she swats it away playfully.

“Hmm… I still think it’s your fault.” Her tone stays teasing and she takes a bite of her own slice of pizza, while looking at him with an arched eyebrow, challenging him.

“Don’t try that with me, dearie. I know better than to argue with a woman.” Belle chuckles, glad that she had already swallowed the pizza, and pokes him into the shoulder.

“You’re just taking an easy way out.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, and looking at her - he takes another big bite of his pizza. Belle rolls her eyes at him in amusement. After she sees that he has swallowed, she goes for the last punch.

“Just try to not get the contents on my lap this time.”

She’s already facing away from him, reaching for her mug and taking a small sip, when she hears him snort.

“That was merely one time!”

“But what a memorable time.” She waves her remaining pizza before his face, after putting down the mug.

“Be careful dearie or this time it may be _you_ dropping the contents. And my lap is much more expensive than yours.” She arches her eyebrow at him, and a blush quickly raises to his cheeks. “I uh… I mean, my trousers are more expensive…” Belle laughs at him, taking back her hand, yet she would indeed end up messing up his pants.

“Oh, please, do continue.” She shoots him a gleeful look, and he stares at her for a moment with a slightly open mouth, before turning to the coffee table and taking his mug. Belle knows he won’t say anything more, so she returns to finishing her slice of pizza, while he slurps his tea slowly, and the amused look doesn’t leave neither of their faces.     

❄❄❄❄❄

With the food gone and the mugs emptied, Belle had pulled herself up to clean up, but Gold insisted he will do it. She knew it pointless to argue with him, so now she is sitting at the couch, listening to the commercials in the radio, and the sound of running water and the clunking sounds of washed dishes.

“I didn’t comment on that earlier, but you put on a nice tree, Belle.” He says from above the sink, and Belle glances in his direction with a smile.

“Thank you. Took me several hours to decorate it.”

“It’s really beautiful. Very… colorful.” He casts her a sideways glance, and suddenly Belle is stricken by an idea. She pulls herself up and walks up to the light switch, just as he finishes with the dishes.

“What are you doing?” He asks curiously, and she hears the tap being turned off, and then his uneven steps as he approaches without the cane.

“Just watch.”

She flicks the light switch off, and then plugs in an electric plug, and suddenly the entire room is illuminated with various colorful lights, dancing on the walls, the floor and the ceiling. She looks at Gold and sees his amazed expression, as he glances around with an open mouth. The lights on the Christmas tree flicker in rhythmic pattern, blues and greens and reds, while golden and orange lights hanging along the longest wall pulse in a slow rhythm, just to accelerate for a brief second and then slow down again.

“Wow…” It’s all that escapes Gold’s mouth. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice when Belle approaches him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He startles a bit at hearing her voice so near him, and finally he tears his eyes away from the lights, and looks down at her.

“It’s absolutely wonderful.” The colorful dots are dancing on his face now, and the glow makes it look so soft and eyes so warm, that Belle is lost for a moment, just looking at him. He smiles at her, and then turns his head aside to look at the tree, and Belle can breathe freely again.

“Let’s sit down, Royce.” She tentatively grasps his hand, feeling her heart pounding when he squeezes it back and obediently follows her to the couch.

As soon as he’s seated, Belle kicks off her slippers and drags her legs under her, and half-leaning at the sofa she rests her head at Gold’s shoulder. His arm goes around her, so she could fit better against him, and he stretches slightly himself. They both feel absolutely relaxed, with their stomachs full and warm, and the darkness in the room illuminated only by the colorful soft lights, creating a tranquil atmosphere, and when the song changes in the radio, the mood swifts around them slightly.

 _I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_There's just one thing I need_  
 _I don't care about the presents_  
 _Underneath the Christmas tree_

Belle’s slightly sluggish mind takes her to the past, to the Christmas she was spending with her father, and even farther back, to the few Christmas spent with her mother as well. It was always a time full of joy for them, full of family warmth. She has never quite considered ever having it on her own; with her own husband and children…

 _I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
 _Make my wish come true_  
 _All I want for Christmas is you_

There is a tickling feeling in her stomach now, as she thinks of the possible future and only one face comes into her mind; face with a warm brown eyes, lovely smile revealing white crooked teeth, brownish neck-long hair falling around in a wonderful floof… The face of a man that is currently sitting next to her, touching his cheek to the top of her head as he leans it against her. That sudden vivid image in her mind makes her open her mouth in shock, and she’s quite glad he can’t see it.

 _I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_There's just one thing I need_  
 _I don't care about the presents_  
 _Underneath the Christmas tree_  

But is it really what she wants? The hard fast beating of her heart tells her that yes, it is.

 _I don't need to hang my stocking_  
_There upon the fireplace_  
 _Santa Claus won't make me happy_  
 _With a toy on Christmas day_

She scoots a bit more closer to him, shifting to lean more comfortably against him. It’s her heart’s desire, but they are just friends… Is it really possible that he could be feeling the same? Would she dare to make that assumption? He has never gave her a sign, but then, she would be surprised if he had. He is very good at hiding his feelings, she knows; especially if he thinks they could hurt him. But what if she’s wrong, what if there aren’t any feelings to speak of?

 _I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
 _Make my wish come true_  
 _All I want for Christmas is you_  
 _You baby_

Should she listen to her reasonable mind and ignore the heart, or should she take the leap of faith and follow her feelings?

❄❄❄❄❄

The powerful voice of Mariah Carey fades away, and as the commercials start to come from the speakers, Belle sighs and moves away to sit properly, suddenly feeling like her emotions have made a tight knot in her stomach during the song and now she needs to untie it somehow.

The quiet peaceful mood suddenly doesn’t feel like it to her anymore, and she feels she has to break the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Neal wasn’t coming? You could have told me that you’re gonna be alone…” She asks the question that’s been running somewhere around the backs of her mind the whole evening.

He shrugs and averts his head in slight embarrassment.

“I dunno… I guess… I didn’t want to make you feel like obliged to keep me company…”

“But I like your company, Royce.” She tells him, wishing she could tell him just _how much_ she truly likes it.

He looks at her for a moment with something in his eyes that she can’t quite read, but then it dissipates and he smirks.

“You do, huh? Quite a bad taste you have.” She puffs at that, but her eyes stay glued to his.

“I rather like my taste, I think.”

He gulps visibly and for a second his eyes dart downwards, to her lips. She wonders if he’s thinking of kissing her. _Don’t be ridiculous,_ she reprimands herself. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of it… Right?

“I’ve got you something.” For a moment she doesn’t understand him, and then her brain finally connects.

“A present? I told you…”

“I know, but it’s Christmas. Besides, don’t worry, it’s not a new couch.” He smirks at her, and Belle can’t help but roll her eyes at him. One of those days he will buy her this damn couch, she just _knows_. She isn't sure how he's been able to stop himself so far.

“I’ve got you something too, actually. And don’t look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t get you a Christmas gift?” He looks away for a moment, embarrassed, but then his eyes return to her, and he’s wearing a shy, slightly quivering, smile.

“I guess I’m just still not used to it…”

“Then I will just have to be giving you more presents!” She says cheerfully, chuckling softly at his agonized groan.

Belle hoists herself up and walks over to one of the cupboards, pulling out a small yellowish box. When she’s making her way back to the couch, she can see how Gold’s eyes dart towards her with interest every now and then, although he tries to appear indifferent.

Belle bites her lip as she sits down and stretches her hand towards him, the little box sitting at her open palm invitingly.

“Happy Christmas!”

Gold smiles at her, and then looks down at her outstretched hand, staring at the box for a few seconds, before he finally reaches for it, and Belle bites her lip harder when his fingers brush against hers and she notices how pleasantly warm his hand is.

“Uh… I’m afraid I left your present in my house…” He gives her an apologetic look, but Belle shrugs it off.

“It doesn’t matter, you can give it to me some other day. Now, open it!” She encourages him, seating already at the verge of the couch from her excitement. She wasn’t sure what to get him, but when she saw _this,_ it just screamed his name to her, and so she bought it without a second thought.

Gold opens the box slowly, with a meticulous movements that drawn Belle’s eyes to his hands. As soon as they land there, her treacherous mind whispers that his fingers are long and slim, and could do incredible things to her… She quickly snaps her eyes back up, feeling her face heat up. Darn those uninvited thoughts.

He finally gets the box open, and Belle holds up her breath, as he carefully pulls out his gift - a keyring, made of real gold and shaped as a spinning wheel. Gold looks at her with wide eyes, his mouth open in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything and it makes Belle feel nervous. When she saw it in the shop, she immediately remembered what he had told her once about his "secret" hobby, how he had brought her to his basement and showed her a beautiful antique spinning wheel. It was one of those rare moments when he opens up to her, and she remembers how scared he was that she would laugh at him. She didn’t laugh of course. She really thought it’s a sweet hobby, and that is what she told him. So this little spinning wheel shaped keyring seemed a good gift for him at the moment she saw it, but right now, she starts to feel self-conscious about it, and she’s stricken by a sudden urge to explain herself.

“I uh… I hope you like it? I know you already have a keyring, but it’s a plain thing, and I thought, when I saw this one, that it would be perfect and…”

“Belle!” His sudden interruption causes her to gape at him, and she belatedly realizes that she’s been babbling. “I love it, truly. It’s beautiful. Thank you, darling.” He leans forward to kiss her cheek, and Belle’s mind screams _darling_ and _he kisses your cheek!_ at the same time, causing her breath to hitch. Her heart makes a silly loop when his soft dry lips come into contact with her cheek, by now probably all red and burning, and she tries to not shiver at the sudden tantalizing feeling that rushes through her. She tries to remember if she also felt that way the last time he had kissed her cheek. She did, she thinks… She has always felt that way around him, since when they first met, she realizes. From the lack of bravery she’s been trying to dismiss it all along, but maybe being brave is exactly what she _should_ be right now?

He withdraws from her, somewhat slowly, and Belle turns her head to face him more, her hand going forward on its own volition, grasping the back of his neck and not letting him move further away. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, until her lips are against his, the softest of brushes, but it feels as if she just tasted the heaven.

_Is this truly happening?_

Belle’s heart starts to hammer in her chest, as her fuzzy brain finally realizes that she is _kissing_ him and he is not kissing back. For one terrifying moment she freezes, matching his own frozen figure. Did she just misstep? She didn’t just ruin their friendship, right?

“Royce… Tell me I didn’t just make a terrible mistake.” Her voice is weak and she isn’t looking at him; in truth her face is still so close to his, that she simply cannot see him clearly. His breath puffs over her lips when he sighs, and a part of her mind, that tiny bit that didn’t start to panic and still thinks rationally, notices that he doesn’t pull away from her.

“You didn’t.” He finally tells her, a soft whisper against her lips, and she moves backwards a tiniest bit, just enough to look him in the eye. His dark chocolate eyes are wide in fear and disbelief, and Belle only now notices that he is taking fast shallow breaths instead of breathing fully. She tentatively entwines one hand around his lovely floof and strokes it softly, calmingly. She knows that this is something that soothes him.

“Should we talk about it?”

His Adam’s apple moves up and down when he gulps nervously, and Belle looks at it for a moment, utterly transfixed.

“I think we should, yes… So, uh…” He trails off, and she moves her eyes back up, and bites her lip in thought. How do you even talk about taking your friendship out of the friends zone? Especially after you’ve already technically did that. She has no idea, and her mind is still trying to wrap up around the fact that she has just kissed him, and that he didn’t tell her _Let’s just pretend like nothing has happened._ She could have ruined their friendship, and it seems that in a some way, she had indeed destroyed it. But what they could have now, the love born out from friendship, could only open new the most wonderful door for them.

“So… That makes us more than friends now? Like… a couple?” She asks to make sure they are on the same page, that they both want to move in the same direction.

“I guess so, yes…” His brow is slightly creased, and for a moment he looks at her with a lost expression, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where that kiss places them and what should they do now, and Belle can't help but think that he looks like a confused, but adorable, puppy.

“Should we kiss again then?”

She doesn’t wait for his answer though, already moving forward and brushing her lips against his. This time he doesn’t freeze, and the hand not holding her gifted box finds its way onto her back, grasping at her gently and tugging her yet closer. It should feel strange to kiss your best friend, Belle thinks, but she realizes it doesn’t feel that way; it feels just perfect to her, as if it was always meant to happen, as if it was just a natural progression for the two of them. And maybe it is? She smiles into the kiss, and the hands she still has buried into his soft hair, scratch at his scalp as she moves them downwards, and she twirls the endings of his hair around her fingers playfully, as she enjoys their newfound closeness.

This same day next year, unbeknownst to them just yet, they will be recalling this year’s Christmas with a great joy, telling the story to Neal and Emma at the table full of delicious dishes, the Christmas songs playing from Neal’s cellphone, and the lights on the Christmas tree dancing with various colors, the big pink Victorian filled with warm joyful atmosphere and laughter. But that is to come later. Right now, they can just focus on each other, and the feelings that they are finally free to express.

 _Oh I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
 _Make my wish come true_  
 _Baby all I want for Christmas is you_


End file.
